Fall For a Shooting Star
by Stardris
Summary: Steve, newly awakened, finds himself in a world he no longer understands. Liv, newly transferred from the CIA, finds herself in charge of readjusting the Captain. Both lost, both struggling to find their purpose, they find each other. Steve R/OC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Liv tensed in cold fury. She could handle not being informed of many things but THIS, this had crossed the line. The phone shook in her hand.

"Agent Jackson, respond."

"I'll clean up your mess, Fury, but next time you inform me or I promise, there will be hell to pay." She snapped in that frighteningly controlled voice that made the man on the line flinch.

"ETA ten minutes." He hung up.

Liv clenched her jaw, then moved with military precision to the coffeepot. If she knew anything about the boys back in WWII, it was that a cup of joe was one of their dearest commodities. As she worked on the brew, she forced herself to relax. Breathe in. Out. Be calm, soothing, informative. Lord only knows what sort of shock the man's been through. The pot finished just as she heard a commotion from the hall outside and – of course. That would be Fury. Already not-so-subtly trying to get Rogers into the field. She silently thanked Stark for taking the all of seven minutes he needed to make the coffeepot brew faster (and better) and filled two travel mugs. Heels clicking on the floor, she strode outside and inserted herself deftly into the parade of people streaming down the hall. She ended up next to Fury, who was walking beside Rogers and well into a determined monologue.

"…technology, especially in warfare, is –"

"Captain Rogers!" Liv interrupted, deliberately letting her voice ring out in a command, knowing that the soldier would respond with a somewhat clear head to that tone.

He stopped immediately and turned, looking at her with such a bewildered and lost expression that Liv mentally cursed Fury….for the fifth time that day.

"Yes ma'am?"

Liv slipped between an irritated Fury and the Captain and placed the travel mug in his hands.

"Coffee. Black. I thought you might need it."

Fury obviously felt the need to regain control over the situation.

"Captain, this is Liv Jackson. She is one of out most valuable agents – "

"CIA." She snapped.

Fury clenched his jaw and continued.

"Admittedly a transfer, but she had proved time and time again to be one of our, if not the, best."

Rogers' expression had now taken a turn to overwhelmed as Fury continued monologuing. Liv gently touched behind his elbow, and he flinched slightly, then relaxed and allowed the touch. He seemed to regain focus and looked at Liv, inhaling slightly as if he were about to speak, but she silenced him with a brief shake of her head. Fury finished.

"What he means to say is, they trust me enough that it's become my job to help you adjust. Which begins with getting you somewhere quiet." She said gently, not moving her hand from his arm. Fury, much to her satisfaction, didn't protest. He knew that when he gave Liv a job she would do it her own way.

"I have to say that'd be welcome, ma'am."

"Come on then." She led him out of the mob of people, glaring at Shield agents that tried to follow until they went away (she had a hunch Fury called them off over the radio). Planning on taking him the back way to her car, she brought him down a relatively unused corridor. Rogers faltered slightly, and she turned, concerned.

"Are you alright?"

He looked down and chuckled slightly.

"It's a lot to process. But I really don't think you need to shepherd me like an errant child, Ms. Jackson."

Liv pulled back her hand quickly.

"I'm sorry, I – "

"It's fine." He interrupted. "We'll do it this way, so I don't get lost."

And he offered his arm to her. A little startled, she took it. They continued down the labyrinth of halls until Rogers spoke.

"Where are we, anyway?"

Liv glanced at him, startled.

"You mean to say that in all that time Fury was monologing he never told you?

Rogers shrugged. "Guess he had other things on his mind."

Liv rolled her eyes and a crooked smile appeared on his face. "Well, Captain, we're currently at Shield headquarters in New York."

"Steve, please. And Shield is?"

Now Liv was really surprised. "He failed to mention that, too?"

"I suppose he did, yes."

"SHIELD is an acronym. It originally stood for Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division. It was changed in 1991 to Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, and then more recently to Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "And that all means what, exactly?"

Liv chuckled. "Good question. No single person is absolutely sure. As far as I know, officially, it's a UN chartered intelligence agency. In actuality, it's a US based operation founded and run by Nick Fury with the purpose of locating and recruiting exceptional people."

Rogers' brow furrowed. "I could see that being potentially hazardous."

"It is."

As they spoke, they turned the corner into the small parking garage where she, Stark, and a handful of other agents kept their cars.

"Here we are."

Rogers' eyes became as big as saucers as he gazed at the cars. Liv stifled the urge to giggle.

"Bit different, huh?"

"These are…well, they're…they're…"

"Flashy?"

"That would be the word."

"Maybe someday I'll let you drive. Hop in." she gestured to her small, forest green car.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The drive was mostly silent, with Rogers' eyes fixed out the window 90% of the time. The other 10% he spent staring at the gadgets Stark had decided to install in her car. As they neared her flat, Rogers suddenly asked,

"What does that one do?"

Liv glanced down to make sure he wasn't pointing at one that would do something dramatic (Stark did have quite a taste for the theatrical).

"Why don't you find out?"

He glanced at her, then leaned forward and pushed it. Immediately the sound of Train's Drops of Jupiter filled the air. Rogers, she noticed, looked frankly amazed, but as she pulled into the parking garage his mood turned pensive.

_Tell me did you sail across the sun _

_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights are faded _

_And that heaven is overrated?_

"Strangely appropriate, isn't it?"

"You could say that." He replied.

She stopped the car. "Ready for the grand tour?"

"Of?"

"My apartment." She said, mentally crossing her fingers and hoping he wouldn't take it badly.

Rogers gave her a look, a look that said _And this is appropriate because..?_

Liv sighed. "I've got a second unused bedroom. And if you think I'm going to put you somewhere where Fury has easy access to you, you're wrong. This building we're in is Stark tower. My friend Tony owns it and he's not particularly fond of Fury, which translates into you having the peace you need to adjust while being close to someone who can help you. Deal?"

Rogers held her eyes a moment, searching for something, then nodded, satisfied.

"Come on in, then."

He was silent as they sped up to her rooms in the elevator. Actually, silence was something she was starting to associate with him. The elevator dinged and opened on her (rather spacious) flat. Stepping out of the elevator, Rogers raised an eyebrow. Liv's lips twitched into a hint of a grin

"Explore all you want. I don't mind." She invited.

So he did. In front of them was a wall of floor to ceiling windows that offered an incredible view of the city. To his right was a small kitchen, tastefully decorated to look like a coffeehouse, and to the left was a sitting area with a fireplace and a TV that faced away from the windows. A hallway leading away from the windows had a door on either side and opened at the end into a studio of sorts. Paintings, sketches, and sheets of music were scattered everywhere. A paint-splattered upright piano sat in a corner and a huge wooden desk took up the back of the room. Leaning against this desk was a half-covered framed painting that caught his eye. He glanced at Liv, who had followed him, for permission and gently lifted the cloth obscuring the painting. He stood gazing at it for a moment, taking in the image of a B-17 flying away from a blood-red sunset.

"Did you do this?"

"Yes. My grandfather flew a B-17. I painted it for him, and he got to see it just before he died."

"It's very good."

Liv smiled her thanks and nodded at the painting. "You can have it if you'd like. I don't have anywhere to put it, and out of anyone…well, I think he'd like you to have it."

A little shocked, Rogers shifted to look at her. "Are you sure?"

She snorted and gestured at the room. "Does it look like I need another painting?"

He glanced around, noting with curiosity that some of the easels were covered in black cloth, and filed that observation away to ask about later.

"Thank you."

She smiled in response. "You missed your room. For whatever reason, Tony gave me two master bedrooms, so you have your own bathroom and all that jazz." She opened a door to a simple and attractively furnished room, a striking blue complimented with dark leather and wood accents. He wandered for a moment, and then paused, looking at a wall.

"This will be great."

"I'm glad you think so."

He looked up at her, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes – the first Liv had seen.

"That's not quite what I meant. A soldier's not going to be very picky about where he sleeps, Miss Jackson. I meant…" he stepped out briefly, leaving Liv standing uncertainly by the door. When he returned, he had her painting in his hands. "...it would be a great place for this. Do you have a nail?"

"Yeah, give me a sec."

Liv quickly located her tool kit and returned to find him staring at the painting again.

"Steve?" she asked gently.

He startled and ruefully rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry. Got lost in…in memory lane. What was your grandfather's name?"

She handed him the kit. "Benjamin Paul Jackson. He was 21 when the war started."

Rogers nearly dropped the painting – it was lucky Liv caught the edge. "Benny? I knew him – ran several missions with him. He was a good soldier, a good man. I…I never thought…"

"That you'd meet his granddaughter? I'd bet money he never thought it either."

He found himself smiling at that. "No, I'm sure he didn't. Hand me the hammer, would you?"

Liv passed it to him, then rubbed her hands on her jeans. She really did need to dust in the studio every once and awhile. "Have you got everything you need? SHIELD is sending some clothes over tomorrow but if you need anything else – "

"I'm set. Thanks for all this." He nodded at the room.

"I think I'll go wrangle up some food. Got a preference?"

"Not really. Just…well, my enhancement makes me – "

"Eat a lot, I know. Fury texted me about that."

Rogers blinked, confused.

"I'm so sorry, I completely forgot." Liv pulled something out of her pocket. "This," she said, handing him the device, "is a cell phone. This particular kind of cell phone is called an iPhone. Cell phones do all the same things as regular phones except," she moved next to him so she could reach the screen. " Cell phones can send typed messages to each other." She tapped the messages button and showed him the message Fury sent her earlier.

"That's pretty nifty." Rogers remarked.

"It's quite convenient." Liv agreed. "This kind of cell phone – "

"The iPhone."

"Yup. It does a bunch of other things too, but that gets into a really long discussion that's best left for after dinner because I'm hungry and I bet you are too, after being frozen for such a long time."

He handed the phone back and nodded. "You sure got that right."

Liv smiled at him and left, leaving him alone with a hammer, some nails, a painting, and his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After dinner and a lengthy discussion covering cell phones, iPhones, iPods, and gas fireplaces, Rogers and Liv settled into a comfortable silence. Rogers sat in an armchair, staring out at the city, and Liv sat across from him, studying him. He turned and met her eyes.

"Yes?" She cocked her head, expecting yet another question about the Internet.

"In the studio. Something piqued my curiosity."

She nodded at him to go on.

"Why do you have some of those paintings covered?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had hit a sore spot. Her face turned pale and she tensed, as if ready for a fight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean – "

"Don't worry about it." She said, voice strained. "I'm tired, and we have an early start tomorrow to start your training."

"Training?"

"More like rehabilitation. Good night, Captain."

And with that, she got up and left.

She kept him busy for the next few days – so busy, in fact, he wondered if she was trying to curb any more questions about herself – about why she woke up screaming most nights. He didn't mind too much though, sometimes she wore him out enough to chase away his own nightmares. She had him read books about the history of technology, look at the evolution of photography, and introduced him to both the Predator and the computer.

"Fury was very specific about what he wanted you to know," she said three days in when he ventured to ask how she came up with this stuff. "but its predominately military in nature. Things like advances in science and shifts in the culture are completely left off the list. So I took the liberty of adding those in." she said with a sly grin.

Rogers shook his head with a rueful smile. He felt like a student again, cramming information into his head as fast as he could.

"Are we working on a time limit or something here? I feel like I'm drowning in books." He said mildly, glaring pointedly at the stack of books by his chair.

Liv chuckled. "Not officially, but Fury won't tolerate you being holed up here for very long. I want you prepared, because in this age, nothing is safe." She said darkly.

"I disagree." Said an unfamiliar voice. Rogers flew to his feet and ended up in a defensive stance before he realized what happened. He glanced at Liv, who had half-risen from her seat and shook her head almost imperceptibly, before relaxing.

"Steady there, soldier. Take it easy on the frozen limbs, would ya?"

Rogers didn't move from his position between Liv and the stranger. "Who are you?"

"Oh, you know, only the owner of this tower, CEO of Stark enterprises, genius, inventor – "

"He's Tony Stark." Liv cut in. "Tony, you already know about Steve, I'm sure."

Tony had meandered over to the kitchen and was helping himself to some of Liv's wine. "Fascinating, this Hydra stuff. I'd love to get my hands on some of those batteries they made. You know, I never seem to have enough compact power sources for-"

"Steve, my dad was very close to Tony's dad. We've known each other since we were infants."

Which would explain why she continually talked over the man. Steve held out his hand to Tony, who by now had made his way to the sitting area, wineglass in hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Yup." Steve raised his eyebrows as Tony embraced Liv, saying "Been too long since I've seen your gorgeous face round here. Fury keeping you busy with his boys?" He asked with a wink.

Liv crossed her arms and eyed Tony in a mischievous way. "Why Tony, that was almost polite. Pepper's been working wonders with you."

Tony shrugged self-consciously. "Maybe. She's…well, she's.." He trailed off in a manner completely counter to his earlier behavior.

Liv smiled. "You drop by for any particular reason?"

Tony held up the wine "This," pointed to Rogers "That," and pointed at Liv "and you, of course. I also wanted a look at your house system –"

"No. You are not ever installing a house system in this flat. And you know why? Because computers can be hacked."

Tony gave her a skeptical look. "Mmm, I don't think so. Let me see, well, Stark Tower's never been hacked, my house has never been hacked – "

"And all that is irrelevant compared to what I've seen working with Fury. We've been over this."

"Yes, but – "

"No."

Rogers cleared his throat. "Did you want to take a seat?"  
They turned in sync and he swallowed a laugh.

"Yes, I'd love to –"

"No, he's really – "

Liv glared at Tony. "No, you have a date with Pepper in twenty minutes and the traffic's terrible."

Tony looked startled. "How did you know?"

"What was I saying about computer security earlier? Oh, that's it's awful. Thanks for the offer of a house system but I'm set." She said with a satisfied grin as she plucked the wine glass out of his hands. "Good night!"

Rogers let out a breath when the door shut.

"He gets people on edge pretty fast." Liv remarked.

"You can say that again."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Hello readers! I apologize for my absence – the Olympics makes it a little hard to get anything done in the evening – and apologize in a advance for my absence in the next couple weeks. I will try to get another chapter or two posted but life got crazy busy! I just want to say thank you guys so much for reading and following and reviewing. I've never had a story do so well and I appreciate it so much!

TRIGGER WARNING: Talk of torture

In the end, it was a full week before Liv finally answered his question. They were sitting in their usual spots after dinner and Liv had turned the fireplace on for the first time that season. She had so far refused to turn on the heater, but when he pointed out that she was shivering she finally caved and sat next to the fireplace. They sat for awhile, discussing the latest movies and the merits of various songs before Liv said,

"I'm sorry for the other night. You asked an honest question and I…I was a bit rude."

Steve shifted in his seat; a little surprised she was bringing it up. "There's nothing to forgive. I brought up a tough topic – poking my nose in places it shouldn't be."

Liv's lips twisted in a false smile, then she got up. "Come on. I think you ought to know.

Steve started to protest, but changed his mind. He genuinely wanted to know, after all, and she had evidently come to a decision, so he stood and followed her to the studio. Liv turned to face him, her face pale and glowing in the moonlight, eyes bright. He stood captivated for a moment until she spoke in a flat voice.

"About a year ago I was assigned a mission in Russia. I had discovered a terrorist cell and they attached me to a team to take them out. Things…went poorly. Those of us that survived were captured and tortured."

Steve clenched his fists. War is hell on earth. Men were captured and tortured, men died in agony, lives were destroyed in brutal ways. But standing in front of this girl, this fiery, intelligent woman, Steve experienced the strange sensation of shock at hearing what you expected. He inhaled to speak, but Liv held up her hand to stop him.

"Let me finish. " She said in that same flat voice. "None of us broke. How they knew I had the information they wanted I don't know and I frankly don't want to know, but they began to torture my team….torture my team in front of me. I never said anything." Her voice broke and she looked away, blinking and taking a deep breath even as the present grew distant and a ringing filled her ears. "Two of them died in front of my eyes…two others died…." Her voice trailed off, the words choking her. She was drowning in the horror of the memory, screams echoing in her head, Lee was screaming and blood was on the floor, men were yelling in Russian, metal flashed in the light, her bonds were too tight - she couldn't help him - she couldn't stop it -

Steve moved without thinking and squeezed her shoulders as he used to do for his men when they couldn't handle the hell they were in. It helped, pulling her back to the present.

"Thanks." she whispered. "The two others died of their wounds. They finally understood that I would never give them anything so they scheduled my execution. American troops reached me hours before they were going to kill me."

She turned away, moving towards the covered paintings.

"Because of the trauma, the CIA moved me to the SHIELD team in the hopes that working on something different would help me and ultimately get me back in the field faster. Only problem is, I'm starting to like it here. Don't tell Fury." She reached the easels. "I find that painting helps the nightmares a little."

She tugged the fabric off several of the paintings. One was of a prison floor, soaked in water and blood. One was light glinting off of metal, another of a hand digging at the bottom of the bars, nails bloody and caked in dirt. The largest painting was of a man. He had a crooked smile, almost hidden among many frighteningly straight scars, and a surgically clean, wicked knife in his hand. It was from the perspective of a person sitting in a chair before him – from what Steve understood to be Liv's perspective. Around the nails, barely perceptible flecks of dried blood lingered.

"I've experienced horrible things." Steve began haltingly. "I've fought men who embody evil, killed many, watched men die in pain, and felt the grief of losing those closest to me. I've lived the life of a soldier." He turned away from the paintings and looked deeply into Liv's eyes. "But I've never been wholly at their mercy. I don't know if I could do what you did." Unconsciously, he had moved close to Liv and realized that he was a half step away from her. He reached out and gently took hold of her shoulder, stooping slightly so as to be closer to eye level with her. "You made the right choice. Your courage, and the courage of the men who died there, saved lives."

Liv shook her head, silent tears falling down her cheeks. "I don't want to serve my country anymore if that's the kind of choice I have to make. I will not do it again, Steve. Not like that."

He had no response, and there was nothing to say. So he held her until she steadied herself, and let her go when she shifted, and watched her as she walked out of the room.

Alone in the studio, Steve covered the paintings again. He could hear Liv crying softly in her room with his enhanced hearing. He stepped back out to the living room, pausing briefly in the hallway by her door, and turned the lights off. He stood in front of the windows and stared out over the city for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Their days were full. Liv continued with the relentless reading program, and had him using technology and asking so many questions that he marveled she never tired of them. Tony Stark was in and out, never staying very long (for which he was deeply grateful). He mastered the iPhone, marveled at the Internet, and fell into bed with his head buzzing every night. It was no surprise that he found the building's hardly-used gym quickly and made a routine of getting up an hour or two before Liv and heading down there. It cleared his head to work with the punching bags. There, with the smell of leather and sweat and the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting sand, he grieved Peggy and the life he left behind – a life when things were simpler, and wars were won by soldiers and a man's courage, not a finger clicking on a glowing screen. The hours slipped past him in a timeless stream there, in the abandoned gym, and slowly, gradually, he let his old life ease into the current and flow past him. He came to realize that as he emptied his heart of the past, the present began to take residence there – Liv began to take residence there. The beautifully strong, patient, and passionate woman quietly began to make a home on the deepest parts of his heart. Every day, without fail, she would have coffee made when he returned from the gym and a shower, and the glint in her eye that meant today he would discover something new, and he fervently hoped every day it was something about herself. Every night, without fail, they would talk late into the night, and then head to bed. He would thank God she was oblivious to his growing affection, fall asleep, then jolt awake from either his own yell, or her scream from nightmares. Neither said anything to the other about it. Liv knew or guessed his demons, and he knew hers. Steve settled into this routine and soon had a pretty decent grasp on the modern world. One day, after he had successfully accomplished every task she set him without having to ask any questions about how to use the equipment and Liv had finished whatever Fury had her working on these days, she grinned at him across the dinner table.

"You're doing amazingly well."

Steve finished the last bite of the excellent pasta salad Liv had made that night.

"You're not doing too badly as a teacher yourself." He remarked, leaning back in his chair.

She chuckled and looked down, a pink so slight touching her cheeks that Steve had to double check to make sure it was a blush – only she moved before he got that chance.

"I can take care of those." He protested as she cleared the plates.

She set them in the sink. "No dishes tonight. I think a celebration is in order"

Eyebrow raised, Steve watched as she ducked behind the counter to emerge with a rather expensive-looking bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Have I ever shown you Pepper's garden?

"Nope."

"It's beautiful out there tonight. Shall we?"

She took him to the top of the building and they emerged on a roof that had been transformed into a truly beautiful garden. Steve even heard the soft tinkle of one, no, make that two fountains. The glow of the city provided light, and the noise was a distant hum. Liv led Steve over to a handsome (and surprisingly comfortable) bench tucked away by a small fountain and some exotic looking plants.

"So," she began, curling up in a corner of the bench and struggling with the cork, "What shall we drink to?"

Steve, chuckling, reached over and took the bottle. He, of course, uncorked it with ease.

"If there's something I learned during the war its that you don't need something to drink to. You just drink."

Liv held out the glasses and he filled them generously.

"True enough. To absolutely nothing, then."

The crisp ping of glass rang out and the pair drank in a comfortable silence for a time. After she had finished about half the glass, Liv gathered her courage and asked,

"Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ever have a family?"

Steve fiddled with the stem of his now empty wineglass.

"No. My mother was a single mom, always working hard to pay the rent. Bucky…Bucky was the closest thing I ever had to family."

"I'm sorry." Liv said quietly. She gently placed her hand on his arm. Steve looked down and smiled grimly.

"He went the way he wanted to go – serving his country, protecting his friends. That's all a soldier could ask for." He said, meeting her eyes. Liv heard in his glance what he had not said: that Bucky had died protecting him. She held his gaze. A moment passed between the two fighters, a moment that passed with startling clarity for Steve. Her hand still lay on his arm, and a breath of wind stirred her blonde hair. City lights shimmered in her green eyes. Steve's heart thudded in his chest. And suddenly he could bear it no longer. He wanted, needed this woman, needed her to be with him, needed her to know. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, fingers sliding through her hair. She tensed in surprise, then responded eagerly, to his delight. Lips tangled, he put his hand firmly on her back, pulling her up against him, startled and thrilled at the unexpected passion in the kiss. Eventually, Steve broke it off, pulling back slightly and resting their foreheads together so he could see her eyes. He cupped her cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"Steve, I - " she whispered softly.

He stilled her lips with his thumb and gathered her in his arms, pulling her close. There would be time enough to say all that needed to be said. She sighed and lay her head against his shoulder. Content, with only one last concern, he marveled at how a thousand things could be said in a look, in a touch. But there was that last thing…

"It's been awhile."

"What?" she shifted, looking at him.

"Caring for you like this."

"Oh." She settled back in his arms.

"What?" He half-teased. "That's all I get for that confession?"

She laughed softly.

"Of course not."

And she gently, tenderly kissed him again.

That night when he woke to her scream he came to a decision. He was not leaving her alone. He padded to the bedroom, hushed her hoarse questions, and wrapped her in his arms. He finally dropped off watching her rhythmic breathing. For the first time in this century, Steve had no nightmares.


End file.
